


Circles Never End

by depthsofmysol



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Character Death?, Fluff, Heartbreak, M/M, or maybe not, the things people do for love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depthsofmysol/pseuds/depthsofmysol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas was a time to spend with friends and family, to share and make new traditions, and enjoy the fact that another year had gone by with relative success. They weren't supposed to be spent reminiscing about the past and thinking about what could have been. Unfortunately someone forgot to tell Eames that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circles Never End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Inception Advent](http://inception-advent.tumblr.com/).

_Hearts will break, but circles never end_

 

Traditions were a large part of Arthur's life. Growing up, his parents made certain that their family observed certain things like always being together for the holidays. No matter what. Any time he was home from the military, he would always make a point of spending them with his family as he knew just how precious they were. It was something he'd carried into his professional life as well. Although circumstances tended to make it more difficult for him to slip into his old life, he had always tried.

Now that his professional life was slowly starting to wind down, he felt the need to start a new tradition, one where their closest friends would gather to spend the holiday together. It just felt _right_ having those around him who he, strangely enough, considered family.

"Eames, you may have everyone else convinced," Arthur whispered to him, not wanting to spoil everyone else's fun, "but not me. I know this isn't what you had in mind, but can you at least _pretend_ to be enjoying it? For me?"

Eames hated Christmas for a multitude of reasons. Mostly because it reminded him of the times when he'd been _forced_ to sit and talk with the different family relatives that only got together at the holidays. The downside to being from old money – a large family that rarely came together unless it was a holiday, a wedding, or a death. He didn't want to think about the amount of weddings he'd been invited to, gatherings he'd gladly turned down thanks to his job in dream crime.

"Only for you, Arthur. Only for you," he relented, chastely kissing the corner of Arthur's mouth. Arthur had asked, and Eames would make more of an attempt to actually enjoy the fact that Dom, Ariadne, and Yusuf had joined them for a Christmas gathering. It had been four years since Inception, and they very rarely saw each other more than once a year at best. The _least_ he could do was enjoy it. For Arthur's sake.

Exiting the kitchen, he made a beeline for their home-made eggnog, knowing it was the one thing that would make the rest of their evening tolerable. Arthur had provided the recipe, and Eames had made certain to add the appropriate amount of whiskey. Not enough to get everyone pissed off of one glass, but enough for everyone to be pleasantly warm after a few.

Eames, of course, made certain that his own glass had a bit more alcohol than the others. If only because he needed it to make it through until the others went home. He'd spent time planning this night out, having gone to great lengths for the right way to ask Arthur to become a permanent fixture in his life. He didn't seem like the jewellery type, so he'd gone with something a bit more _practical_.

There was a flat – something that belonged to the family, something no one really knew about because of how deep all the paperwork was buried – that not even Arthur knew about, and while he used it for his down time on occasion, no one had ever been there. Eames had wanted Arthur to be the first, and _only_ person to know about it. So the key with a custom made, hand-crafted silver key chain of both their totems seemed like a fitting gift. One he wanted them to be alone for.

"Ariadne!" He called out to the group as he entered the main room of their flat, "I hear that you're working with Saito now, on some big project in Hong Kong."

Ariadne hadn't told a soul about the offer, and was beaming at the fact that someone had actually mentioned it. She'd figured it was best to just let people find out on their own instead of spreading the word herself. It might have looked like she had some sort of ego if she started telling people herself. And unlike Eames, whom she _knew_ had no problem boasting, doing so herself just felt wrong.

"Yeah. He's got me working on some redesigns in one of his buildings," she explained, ignorant of the fact that not everyone was as interested in her new line of work as she was. Of course Ariadne took on the occasional _illegal_ job. But only if someone requested her, or if Arthur asked her to. As addicted to it as she'd become, she'd seen the downsides of becoming so entrenched that you lost touch with what was real and what wasn't.

"Nothing too difficult. Still have time for _other_ pursuits."

"You're still taking – "

"Of course. Arthur's been vetting for me," Ariadne quickly explained. She'd always known Dom would have had some sort of issues with her getting back into things. Especially as he'd dragged her from university in his quest to get home. Now, though, her life was her own and not even Dom Cobb could stop her from enjoying the addiction he'd introduced her to.

"Speaking of _other_ pursuits, Ariadne, I've got a new compound that I could use your help with …"

Eames knew he should have said something about helping out Yusuf with his compounds. But what better way to find out that not everything was legit than be one of the chemist's guinea pigs. He'd been one a few times, and the worst had been the inability to see and hear in the dream. It was one of the few times he'd been honestly scared. After that he'd told Yusuf never again, that he'd have to find someone else crazy enough to experience the side effects from one of his experimental compounds.

"Are you behaving yourself out here," Arthur whispered, wrapping his arm around Eames' waist. Their conversation in the kitchen still weighed heavy on his mind. He knew the forger wasn't too fond of Christmas, and even more so when it came to gatherings. But this was their friends, those who they'd performed Inception with. That should have at least trumped the feelings that came with this holiday.

But no, Eames had spent most of the night looking like some sort of grinch. While the others may have been fooled, Arthur knew beneath the fake façade was someone who just wanted the day to be done and over with.

"Of course I am," he replied, leaning over and dropping a quick kiss on Arthur's cheek, "Ariadne was telling us about her new job in Hong Kong, Dom said – something, and Yusuf asked for volunteers for his latest compound. All in all, I've been on my _best_ behaviour."

Arthur had asked, and he had done his best. Just like he'd promised. It was what you did for someone you loved. And Eames loved Arthur enough to let him in on his last guarded secret. At least they were finally going to be alone.

The others seemed to get the message, and had made their goodbyes rather quickly. Not that he would complain. It had been as close to torture as he could come knowing that he had to wait until they were all alone to give Arthur his Christmas gift. Patience, in terms of his personal life, had never been one of his strong suits. Were he on a job, he could spend all day tailing a mark and never complain once.

"And here I thought they'd never leave," he said, having locked their front door. When he turned back around, he couldn't help but laugh at the glare he was receiving from Arthur, knowing it was from his previous statement. It may not have been the best of things to say but at least it was the truth. He'd put up with having them in their home for most of the day, and now all he wanted was some time alone with Arthur.

"Come on, poppet," Eames cooed, nudging his nose along the back of Arthur's neck, and wrapping his arms around his waist, "you can't tell me you haven't wanted some time alone at some point today."

Arthur could only grumble in return, knowing that the other man had been correct. He loved having their friends over, enjoyed just being able to have some sort of gathering that wasn't job related. But today may have been a bit much. Normally they met over dinner, and they parted company a couple hours later. This time they'd spent the majority of the day together, and all and all he may have been grateful to see the backs of their friends exiting their home.

Arthur wasn't about to say that, though. Eames' ego was large enough as it is without anyone adding to it. Telling him that he may have been right all along would only inflate his already overstuffed ego. And in all honesty, he dealt with it enough that he actually preferred those times when he was nothing more than his usual _charming_ self.

"I've got something for you," Eames whispered, leading them both to the small settee, "here," he offered up the small box he'd meticulously wrapped, and waited to see what Arthur's reaction would be.

"Eames? What is – "

Arthur hadn't been expecting anything, and carefully unwrapping the box he wondered just what Eames had given him. They both had money to spare, and the multiple residences they owned hadn't needed anything in terms of furniture or repairs. And they very rarely gave each other gifts. Not unless it was something they could immediately use. The small box in his hands didn't fit anything that he could have thought he needed, or wanted.

"A key? But I thought – "

It definitely wasn't what he'd been expecting, and Arthur couldn't quite figure out _why_ he needed a key. He would have known had Eames purchased property as he kept records on large purchases such as that. So what did the key go to, and why did he feel the need to give it to him? And on such a gorgeous key chain, no less?

" _Darling_ ," Eames teased, knowing Arthur hated that particular pet name, "you remember those times I would go off to spend time with my parents? And then just disappearing for a few months?"

Of course he did. Arthur hated not knowing where people were at any given time, and when Eames dropped off the map, it had been frustrating not knowing _where_ he'd gone off to. Especially if they needed him, or worse, if people were actually tailing them or wanted them dead.

"That key is to _that_ place," he explained, scooting closer, and grabbing Arthur's hands in his, "I want you in my life, Arthur. Permanently, if you'll have me."

Arthur was speechless. It was a rare feat, and one he never expected to come at the hands of Eames. But staring at the key, and then at Eames, and back at the key again, he had absolutely no idea just what to say. Yes? No? Are you barking mad, as Eames liked to call him?

"Say yes, please," Eames whispered, not above to resorting to begging. Instead he leaned over, closed his eyes and kissed the man. It was sweet, and tender, and everything he couldn't put into words. All he needed was an answer. Preferably a yes. But if it was no? He could deal with it. Somehow. With lots of distance between them.

Opening his eyes, Eames hadn't realized the timer had run out, and he'd been dragged back to the cold reality of his life. Normally he could judge just how long he'd been in a dream, and could anticipate either the kick or the timer running out. This time around he'd been so caught up in his memory that he'd lost complete track of time, and finding himself laying in bed instead of sitting on the settee was yet another reminder of a life he'd once lived.

It had been a year since Arthur's death, since the memory he'd just relived. Not long after he'd asked that question, Arthur had gotten word that he was needed back home. The next day he hopped a flight on a friend's private jet, _promised_ him he would be back as soon as possible. Eames had asked if he wanted him to come with him, and all Arthur did was say no, that this was something he needed to do on his own and that once he knew how long he'd be would call and let him know when he was going to return.

That night news came that the plane Arthur was on had crashed, and there had been no survivors, nothing left other than he flaming wreckage. Eames couldn't believe that _his_ Arthur would have been so careless, and had spent the following month doing nothing but tracking down any piece of information he could find. Nothing. Each and every search came up with nothing.

He couldn't even bring himself to attend the funeral, preferring to spend that time convincing himself that Arthur wasn't dead, that he had somehow survived, and was in the hospital or some place with amnesia. Anything but the cold, hard truth. Eames just couldn't face it. Especially as everyone told him that he needed to move on, that Arthur wouldn't want him moping around like some lost child. There was always some lingering doubt, something that kept whispering to him that the man was alive.

A year later, and all doubt had been completely extinguished. Eames had finally come to terms with the fact that the man he'd loved, the _only_ one he would ever love, was dead, and that it was time to move on. Going under with the PASIV was the first step in his process, and having made peace with that, had driven out to the cemetery where they'd laid him to rest.

Once a week he would visit, then once a month, and now, six months after his previous visit, was ready to finally say goodbye. Eames knew he would survive, that the hurt that currently weighed down his heart would eventually lessen. He knew he'd never forget Arthur, and the work they did together. But it was time to say goodbye, to finally move forward with life. Even if it wasn't the one he'd ever imagined, it was the one he was having to currently live.

"You never did answer my question, Arthur," he confessed to the headstone, "not that I hold it against you. I think it would have been harder to move on knowing the answer."

As stated in Arthur's will, Eames had been left in charge of handling the funeral arrangements, and when it came time to figure out the headstone, had decided on _Beloved son, brother, lover. Always dreamt just a little bit bigger._ It may have been selfish of him, but he wanted anyone who came to visit to know that Arthur was loved. Not just by his family but by himself, as well.

"Goodbye poppet," he whispered, placing one hand on the gravestone while the other wiped away the few stray tears that were falling down his face. Eames would vehemently deny it should anyone ask if he got emotional. But being alone in the cemetery, he felt like it was okay to shed a few tears. Arthur was more than just a colleague, more than a lover. He was the other half of his soul, and a part of him that would always remain empty.

Just as he was about to walk away, Eames felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to raise. It was a reaction he tended to trust as it meant someone was watching him. But who? As far as he could tell he was alone. He'd wanted to be alone to say his goodbyes, and had asked the others if they had any plans to visit and if so, could he be alone. They hadn't bothered to question his motives, and had no problem allowing him space to grieve.

But now? Now he felt familiar eyes on his back, and for once wished he'd brought along a weapon to protect himself. If someone was stalking him, he wanted to know, wanted to demand what right they had to watch him grieve in what was supposed to be a _private_ moment.

Casually turning around, not wanting to let his stalker know he'd been caught, Eames scanned the area around him, and only briefly glimpsed a body standing a few rows behind him. From where he was standing it looked male, with possibly brown hair. It even looked vaguely familiar to –

"Arthur?"

Arthur had known it was a bad idea to return to the cemetery where they'd buried him. Jacques had told him that returning to his old life was too much of a risk. Even though they'd taken care of his problem. For his own safety he was supposed to stick to the new life, and leave the old one behind. That was what his friend had told him when they'd concocted the plan with all of twelve hours notice.

But a year later he thought he would at least make one last trip, say one last goodbye to his old life. It was the least he could do given everything that he'd done, everything he'd been through. He just hadn't expected to see Eames there. It was a sign that he should just turn around and leave. The longer he stood there the more trouble he was asking for. Especially as Eames was running towards him.

"Shit," he cursed, wondering if it were possible for him to make it back to his car before Eames was on top of him. The odds definitely weren't in his corner, and instead of running towards the car, ran towards one of the trees, hoping it would provide enough cover for him to figure out what to do next.

"Arthur? I know you're here somewhere," Eames called out, hoping beyond hope he hadn't hallucinated the man he'd seen watching him at the gravesite.

"Arthur's dead," Arthur told him, stepping out from behind the tree, and pointing his Glock at the forger.

Eames couldn't quite believe his eyes, and immediately shoved his hand into his pant pocket, and rubbed his fingers over his totem, reaffirming the fact he was actually in reality, and not in some sort of dream. Standing in front of him was Arthur. _His_ Arthur. In the flesh no less. He wasn't certain whether to punch him, or kiss him, his emotions were that confused. The only real thing stopping him was the gun pointed in his direction.

"Arthur's _dead_ ," Arthur again told him, placing his gun in his holster, "but Thomas is alive and well."

He cautiously stepped towards Eames, knowing the man had every right to yell at him. Or worse. But standing there, seeing all the emotions flit across his face, a face that was normally neutral in every sense of the word, broke his heart. Arthur wished he could have explained the situation, wished he could have said something more than the lies he'd carefully constructed. He was normally such a horrible liar, it actually shocked him that Eames believed the one he and Jacques had constructed.

"I – I should go," he confessed, "I shouldn't even be here."

As he turned to walk away, Arthur felt rather than saw Eames dart out and grab his wrist, dragging him back towards him. In his heart he knew it had been a mistake to leave the forger in the dark, but once they'd accomplished the task, he'd wanted to desperately return back to him. It was just the lingering possibility of others taking up the cause.

"No, you're not going anywhere," Eames instructed, his grip tightening around Arthur's wrist, "you were _dead_ , Arthur."

"Thomas," Arthur interrupted, glaring at him.

"Dead," Eames continued, ignoring the glares, "I've spent the past _year_ mourning you, and you just show up out of nowhere and just expect me to do what? Do you even know what it's been like for me?"

"I do, Eames," Arthur confessed, his gazing towards the ground, "because I've been going through it, too. I've missed you _so_ much, and I couldn't do anything about it other than just to forget you. You do realize how difficult a task _that_ was, don't you?"

Seeing the corners of the forger's lips quirk upwards brought a smile to Arthur. He'd never expected to see Eames again, let along talk to him. But seeing something akin to a smile brought a warmth to his heart that he hadn't felt in almost a year. He still felt like he should run now, take what little he'd been given and return to his boring, _legal_ life. But he couldn't. Not when he'd been given _this_.

"So you faked your own death," Eames finally said, relieved to finally have some sort of truth,"why? Why go to all that length? And why not _take me with you_?"

Again the guilt crashed over Arthur, and not for the first time he was asking himself that very same question. He could have used someone like Eames, someone who could easily forge documents. Instead, he'd just trusted Jacques, his friend from college who he'd trusted almost as much as Eames. The plan was one they'd concocted on the fly but one that was oddly air tight, one that no one would have been able to take apart. Not even someone like Eames.

"Someone put out a hit on me, and my family," Arthur explained, his eyes constantly looking for any signs that he would need to run, "so we all had to disappear. The past year I've been slowly taking out the the threats, and while it's neutralized for the most part, we agreed that it would be better off for me to just stay away from my old life."

Listening to the story, it finally made sense. Why he'd been in a panic that night, why he was rushing around trying to arrange everything, and ignoring his own offers of help. Eames still wasn't pleased with what had happened, and would have given everything to help Arthur. But seeing him now, in the flesh, he was willing to at least forgive him.

"So now what? Are you just going to disappear again? Leave me here to grieve you once again?" Eames had to know. For his own sanity, if not for his own heart. "I'm not doing it again, Arthur. I can't."

Arthur knew what he _should_ do, and what he could do. He should have just left, and not looked back, not stood there and explained the situation. What he could do, though, was make the offer, see if Eames still wanted to be with him. His words had given him the impression he would. But would he be willing to give up his life in dream crime? Give up the possibility of never forging in a dream again?

"I can't ask you to come with me, though, Eames," he informed him, trying to hide the hurt in his words.

"And why the bloody hell not? I _love_ you, Arthur. I would rather be with you than without," Eames quipped, angry that Arthur could even suggest such a thing.

"Coming with me means no more forging, at least not in dreams, and no more jobs. No nothing," Arthur explained, uncertain just what he wanted, "you'd have to live a semi- _legal_ life. And I don't want you to resent me for taking you away from it all."

A part of him desperately wanted Eames to say yes, to say he would come with him. But another part knew he would feel guilty for taking the man out of something he seemed to love. He couldn't help but think that eventually Eames would hate him for taking him out of dream crime.

"Oh poppet," Eames sighed, resting his forehead against Arthur's, "I would give all of that up in a heartbeat as long as I had you."

Three months later, Eames, now known as Andrew, and Arthur, now known as Thomas, watched as their former friends gathered around the addition of a new headstone. The news had stated that Eames had died in some sort of car crash, bad weather being the major factor, and that there'd been no one left alive, no real body to identify. The only thing the police had been able to recover was a badly burned identification. 

They'd also made certain that Eames' will had included the fact that he wanted to be buried next to Arthur instead of the family plot back in England. He was quite certain his family put up some sort of fight, but in the end Eames knew they wouldn't contest his will. Everything was as it was supposed to be, that even in death they were together. Their hearts may have been temporarily broken, but the circle that was their life was still unbroken.


End file.
